


Look What The Cat Dragged In

by LadyShadowphyre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is an adorkable nerd, Crowley (Supernatural) - Freeform, Dean is the best big brother ever, Human AU, M/M, Sam isn't much better at socializing than Castiel, matchmaking brothers and cats, meg is a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: There was a cat on the dining room table. Sam Winchester did not have a cat, and had no clue how the cat had gotten in, nor why it kept coming back.





	Look What The Cat Dragged In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loufok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loufok/gifts).



> Written for @astromechdroid-r2d2 for the Sastiel Secret Santa Gift Exchange, bonus present for being our awesome mod! Happy Christmas, Cherie!

**T** HERE WAS A cat on the dining room table.

Not too many people would consider this unusual, particularly not cat owners. Annoying, perhaps, if they had told the cat repeatedly not to get up on the table and it continued to ignore them, but not unusual. The problem was that Sam Winchester was not a cat owner, given that his older brother was allergic to them, and had never seen this particular cat before in his life. Thus, the confusion over coming home from a long shift at Morgenstern & MacLeod to find the cat perched contentedly in the middle of his dining room table as if it belonged there and had every right to make his table into a throne from which to survey the spartan decor of the somewhat dilapidated kingdom.

It was a very handsome cat, Sam supposed, being a mottled black and gold short-hair with yellow eyes and a perpetually smug expression. It consented to sniff at the proffered fingers and purred when those fingers scratched beneath its chin, consented to let the human attached to those fingers examine the tag on the collar, and allowed Sam to discover that the cat's name was Nutmeg and the address listed for it was two floors up in Sam's building.

"Well, let's get you back home, hm?" Sam said to the cat with a stifled sigh. Nutmeg squeezed its eyes shut and purred more loudly when Sam picked it up, tucking it into the crook of his elbow like a furry football and shoved his feet into the soft moccasins he wore around the apartment building in his off hours before shuffling out into the hall.

Nutmeg remained perfectly content to stay in Sam's arms in the lift up to the seventh floor, though when they reached the floor in question and the door slid open, the cat wriggled out of his arms and dashed down the hall to scratch at a very specific door and meow stridently for admittance. Sam hesitated, torn between making sure the cat was at the right door and leaving to go try and persuade the microwave to give up something more resembling food than charcoal for his dinner. He was still holding the lift door open with his arm in indecision when the apartment door opened and a male voice said, "Meg? What are you doing out here, girl?"

Well, that took care of that. Sam let the door of the lift slide shut, not seeing the head of tousled dark hair poke out from the apartment as "Meg" darted inside. He had a LeanCuisine box with his name on it followed by a bed that would inevitably spit him out of its warm embrace tomorrow morning way too early.

 

 **N** UTMEG WAS BACK three days later, this time sprawled across the table right in the spot where Sam was supposed to be putting his Chinese take-out. She sniffed at the bags with interest when Sam dropped them on the table beside her, letting out a startled mew when he picked her up before settling into his arms with a purr and a paw against his chest.

The ride up to the seventh floor was just as placid as the first time, though the cat refused to get down from his arms when the doors opened again. Sam sighed and shuffled his way out of the lift down the hall to the door of the apartment listed on the cat's tag. Nutmeg grumbled a little when he set her down in front of the door, rubbing her face against his arm, but turned and started meowing and scratching at the door again when it became obvious that Sam was not going to continue to pet her.

Taking that as his cue, Sam turned away and shuffled back towards the lift that was mercifully still standing open at the end of the hall. He had just stepped inside when he heard a door behind him open and that same male voice say, "Again, Meg? Really?"

The door of the lift slid shut again and Sam heard no more. Privately, though, he agreed. What was with that cat and breaking into his apartment? He was halfway through making a plan to investigate all his apartment windows - any place with a gap big enough to let in a cat had to be bad for his heating bill - but the smell of his dinner filling the apartment distracted him when he got back inside and he fell upon it more ravenously than the mediocre imitation Chinese food really warranted.

Nutmeg and her mysterious owner were forgotten for another night.

 

 **S** HE WAS SITTING on his counter the third time he came home to discover that Nutmeg had once again broken into his apartment. She looked up when he came in, her paw upraised in the middle of batting at a crumpled ball of paper that Sam recognized as last week's grocery list, and her expression as she blinked up at his unimpressed stare was sweet and guileless as only a cat can manage.

Sam wasn't buying it.

"This is the third time in two weeks, Meg," he told her, using the shortened form of her name that he'd overheard her owner use. When she just purred at him, he sighed heavily and picked her up again, handing over the crumbled grocery list when she scrabbled to try and grab it. She purred and chewed on the balled up paper for the whole ride back up to the seventh floor, but hopped down from his arms when the doors opened. When Sam started to press the button for his own floor, she turned and meowed so imperiously at him that he stepped out of the lift on reflex. Then she picked up the crumpled paper and trotted down the hall, tail waving like a banner and head held high with the ball in her mouth like a prized mouse she had caught. Sam watched her go, unsure what she wanted from him, until she sat down in front of the door to her owner's apartment and turned back to look at him. Pointedly.

"You're more than capable of getting your human's attention by yourself, Meg," he told her firmly. Meg proved his point by yowling in protest, but Sam wasn't giving in. He even went so far as to step pointedly back into the lift, though he waited until the apartment door opened again before pressing the button for the fifth floor.

It only occurred to him as he was crawling into his bed that night that he'd allowed Meg to make off with his old grocery list written on one of the firm's advertisement-printed notepads. Sam had a vague hope that Meg's owner would just throw away the crumpled up paper, but it dissipated as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up to find his alarm clock on the floor and Nutmeg sitting comfortably on his chest, purring like the engine of his brother's car after a tune-up. She left scratches on his chest in startelement when he flung her off with a curse in his hurry to get dressed and ready for work in half the time he usually had. As it was, his hair was still wet and his tie was askew when he stalked down the hall of the seventh floor, suit jacket over one arm and cat held in the other.

This time, he went right up to the apartment door and rang the doorbell, cat still in hand. When the door opened, Sam had a brief impression of black hair in wild disarray, a stubbled jaw, and a very wide pair of blue eyes before he held Nutmeg out, practically shoving her at the guy.

"Here's your cat. Have a nice day," he said before turning on his heel and racing to the lift, hoping he could still make it to the bus on time that he wouldn't be late for work.

He made it to the bus.

He also had to go home early because he'd managed to catch a cold from racing out into the December morning with wet hair.

 

 **N** UTMEG WAS CONSPICUOUSLY absent from his apartment during his three day convalescence after catching a cold. Sam tried not to read too much into that, and eventually decided that perhaps the cat could sense that he was Not In The Mood for her breaking and entering antics. She also stayed away for the first four days after Sam was able to go back to work and had to stay late catching up on everything he had been forced to miss. His immediate boss was sympathetic, but _his_ boss was a soulless demon who would have been more than happy to feed Sam to the hounds if it wouldn't reflect poorly on the firm. Sam nearly had a relapse the first day back from stress and took to taking swigs of DayQuil straight from the bottle every four hours to try and fend off the illness while still making headway on the mountains of paperwork.

"Christ, Winchester," his boss, Fergus Crowley, told him when the man poked his head in the door at one point to see him with the bottle on the desk, a pen in each hand, and the phone tucked under his ear. "At this rate, you're going to make partner if you don't burn yourself out first!"

"I'll settle for a raise," Sam muttered thickly as he dialed the number. "But if that dick Zale thinks he's going to just shove half his caseload on me without filing proper-- Hello, Mr  Gallagher? This is Sam Winchester with Morgenstern and MacLeod, I'm calling in regards to your case against your biological brother, Ansem Weems, for fraud and identity theft?"

Crowley left him to it with a wave of his hand. The next day there was a rumor that Ezra Zale had gotten called up in front of the main partners and raked across the coals going around the secretaries that Sam pretended not to overhear or take too much glee in. If he happened to take Crowley a mug of coffee when he was getting his own, well, that was just one less trip either of them had to make today while cutting through the mess Zale had created.

One week and two days after Sam had shoved Nutmeg bodily at her owner before racing off again like a lunatic, he came home to find her sitting on the floor of his apartment, hunched down in a contrite ball, a dead cockroach at her feet. Sam thanked her gravely for the gift, scratching her behind the ears and under her chin, then picked her up and took her back to the seventh floor where he set her down once the lift doors opened. She mewed up at him mournfully, but took the hint and slunk back down the hall towards her owner's apartment.

The cockroach twitched slightly when he went to pick it up, hopefully just a deathrow spasm. Sam still sprayed the floor with disinfectant after he flushed the cat's "gift" down the toilet.

 

 **S** AM USUALLY SPENT his weekends away from the city, climbing into the black 2006 SRT8 Dodge Charger that he'd bought with his first solid paycheck and driving out to spend the weekend with his brother. When he'd gotten sick the previous weekend, Dean had blown up his phone with calls and messages trying to make sure "that soulless crapheap you drive didn't leave you crushed on the side of the road". He hadn't been impressed to find out that Sam was sick and threatened to drive up into the city and check on Sam himself if he couldn't get his ass down to Lawrence the next weekend.

"Not a good idea," Sam had warned him. "I've kinda been adopted by my neighbor's cat."

_"Run that by me again?"_

"So get this," Sam had said as he wadded up a used tissue and lobbed it at the wastebasket. "There's this cat that keeps breaking into my apartment every few days. Lets me take her back to her owner's apartment, but also keeps coming back."

_"Is the owner hot?"_

"Trust you to ask that," Sam had said with a roll of his eyes. "And I don't know, I haven't actually met the man."

_"Well, maybe you should change that, bitch."_

"Jerk."

When Friday rolled around and Sam's phone started blaring AC/DC's "Highway To Hell" before he had even gotten off the lift on his floor, leaving Sam swearing as he tried to juggle his phone, his briefcase, and extra large veggie supreme with bread sticks.

"I'm not even in the door yet, Dean!" he complained when he finally got the call to connect. "I promise I'll start packing for Lawrence as soon as I have dinner!"

"Don't bother, I'm already here," Dean said, and Sam could hear the muffled echo through the door. "So's that cat you told me about. Don't think she likes me much, either, so if you don't mind hurrying your ass..."

"What are you doing breaking into my apartment, Dean?" Sam demanded as he hung up the phone and opened the door. He wasn't even that surprised to find Dean backed into a corner of the living room with Nutmeg hissing and growling at him, her fur puffing her up to twice her usual size. "Stand down, Meg, it's just my brother."

"I was looking for a beer," Dean said as Nutmeg obligingly stopped threatening him and came trotting over to twine herself around Sam's ankles. "You weren't kidding about the hellspawn adopting you!"

"She's not hellspawn," Sam admonished his brother over the cat's meow of protest as he shuffled over to the table to put down his briefcase and pizza. This accomplished and thus newly unencumbered, he bent down to scratch between Nutmeg's ears. "Half the people I work with qualify as hellspawn more than Meg does."

"Well, yeah, one of the senior partners is literally the Morningstar," Dean quipped, relaxing slightly when Sam picked up the cat and Nutmeg began her usual purring and cuddling routine. "You gonna take her back now?"

"Might as well," Sam said with a shrug. "I usually take her right back whenever she's here when I get home."

He left unspoken the fact that he was usually too tired upon getting home to risk doing anything before taking Nutmeg back to her owner because she might not get back to her owner at all if he waited until he had eaten or changed out of his office attire. From the narrow look Dean shot him, his brother heard it anyway.

"Nope!" Dean shook his head and pointed to the open door of Sam's bedroom. "Put down the demon cat and go change into something that doesn't stink of corporate idolatry and the souls of the damned."

"One of these days you're going to run out of jokes about my working for a law firm, jerk," Sam tossed over his shoulder as he carried Nutmeg into the bedroom with him. He didn't think she'd attack Dean now that it was obvious Sam tolerated his brother's presence, but there was no sense in testing her.

"I will when you do, bitch!"

 

 **S** AM HAD NEVER felt so self-conscious about carrying Nutmeg up to the seventh floor as he did now. His hair was out of its professional low ponytail and hung around his face, both too long and not long enough to hide behind. The black suit, crisp white shirt, and dark red tie had been exchanged for a pair of low-slung jeans and an old off-white henley with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows. The only thing familiar was making the trek in his moccasins, but even that was different as he was not wearing socks this time.

The biggest difference, however, was that while he was carrying the persistently purring Nutmeg, he was being followed by his brother, who was in turn carrying the pizza Sam had intended to have for his dinner and road food for the trip to Lawrence. He cleared his throat loudly when the lift doors opened and Sam made to put the cat down until Sam shot him a bitchface and continued carrying Nutmeg - whose purring was practically vibrating her out of his arms - down the hall to the apartment door. When Sam just stood there, both arms full of cat, Dean was the one to reach forward and ring the doorbell.

There was silence, followed by footsteps. The door swung open to reveal a man a few years older and a few inches shorter than Sam. His hair and tie were both dishevelled and his jaw was still attractively dotted with stubble. His eyes were even more blue than Sam's last fleeting impression of them had indicated, and they looked from Sam to Dean to Nutmeg and then back to Sam, apparently just as at a loss for words as Sam.

"Well, hello there!" Dean piped up, once again shouldering the burden of socialization for his little brother. "I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam. He lives downstairs from you, and this charming little lady--" He nodded to Nutmeg, who was side-eyeing him with feline disdain. "--has been breaking into his apartment for the last couple of weeks. Figured we should bring her back and I should make sure Sammy here sticks around to meet you properly like she seems to be angling for."

"Oh!" the man blushed and ducked his head. "I'm sorry... Meg is allowed to roam about the fire escapes when I'm at work so she isn't cooped up inside all day. I had no idea she was invading your apartment, Mister Winchester."

"Sam," Sam croaked when Dean surreptitiously kicked him. He shot his brother a glare before clearing his throat and trying again. "Call me Sam, Mister...?"

"Uh, Cas. Castiel Stertek, but call me Cas." The man put out his hand, then realized that Sam's hands were still full of Nutmeg, who was showing no signs of wanting to get down at all. "I'm, uh, really sorry for the bother..."

"She hasn't been a bother," Sam found himself saying, then winced as honesty compelled him to add, "Well, aside from that time she killed my alarm clock and I was almost late for work... I just wish I knew how she was getting in."

"Dude, same way I got in," Dean spoke up, making Sam and Castiel both jump; they had forgotten he was there. "The latch on your balcony door's broken. Slides open and shut more than easy enough for a cat to manage. It's a wonder she's the only B-and-E you've had!"

"Not like I've got anything worth stealing," Sam snarked back. Mystery solved, and Sam would bet his next paycheck that Dean was already planning on fixing the latch while he was here, though he flushed at this all being discussed in front of Castiel.

"Ain't that the truth!" Dean huffed and clapped Sam on the back, ignoring the way he nearly knocked Sam into the apartment and jostled Nutmeg into hissing at him again. "Well, since Meg here _obviously_ wants you two to become more familiar with each other, I will leave you both with this rabbit food laden extra large pizza while I go help myself to Sam's leftover Chinese takeout and his bed, in that order."

With that announcement made, he shoved the pizza box at Castiel, forcing the other man to catch it before it fell to the floor, tossed off a sloppy two-fingered salute, and turned on his heel, whistling as he sauntered back towards the lift. Sam flushed as he recognized the song, though he hadn't missed his brother's "subtle hint" that he wouldn't be waiting up. With a touch of trepidation, Sam turned back to see Castiel watching Dean leave with a bemused expression that quickly became a blush when he noticed Sam looking at him.

"So, uh," Sam started, simultaneously glad and sorry that his arms were still full of purring cat so he couldn't fidget. "I don't know what sort of plans you might have had before my brother and your cat conspired to get us together tonight...."

"I was going to order takeout and watch Netflix," Castiel said, his blush deepening. "My cousin Gabriel insists that it is supposed to be 'Netflix and chill', but he is also frequently telling me I have none."

"Uh, I don't know about chill," Sam said, mentally cursing Dean for his very thorough explanation of what "Netflix and Chill" was supposed to involve back when Sam had been in college, "but Dean did technically bring you my pizza if you don't mind sharing...."

"If you don't also mind sharing, since it's technically your pizza," Castiel answered, stepping aside to let Sam into the apartment. Nutmeg, apparently deciding that her job was done, wriggled out of Sam's arms and sauntered off towards the kitchen where Sam could see a food dispenser and pet fountain waiting for her return to her rightful kingdom.

"So," Sam said at length. "What are we watching?"

 

 **S** IX MONTHS LATER, Sam and Castiel would roll their eyes as Dean bragged about having been the final instigator of "these two sappy newlyweds actually talking" since both of them agreed that Nutmeg would have eventually worn them both down without Dean's help, even though both of them privately agreed that it was a good thing they hadn't wasted more time. Gabriel Morgenstern would get up to proclaim them a match made in Heaven, to which Sam's boss, Gabriel's brother Lucian, argued that with the way the two of them had both been working for his firm without running into each other, Sam on the track to make partner and Castiel down in the accounting department, it was a miracle they had met at all.

Nutmeg ignored everyone, her duty as Ringbearer Cat summarily discharged, and now too busy with tending to her new litter of kittens her humans had named Cinnamon, Cardamom, and Clove to bother with any of the yapping humans trying to claim credit. She knew her humans appreciated her efforts, and that she was pleased with them bowing to the inevitable. After all, they had added a pet door to the balcony of the apartment they had chosen to move into together.

It still made everyone laugh when the song that was played for their first dance was "Look What The Cat Dragged In".

**=End=**


End file.
